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| Wrapped in swaddling clothes |
Ruby's birth story is so different. I had a completely different pregnancy from the very beginning. I was convinced I was having a boy because everything seemed opposite of my experience with Scout (as with my first pregnancy, we decided to wait to find out the sex of the baby). With Scout I was nauseous and sick (most often in the morning), with Ruby it was smooth sailing other than a few nighttime episodes of upset stomach. With my first pregnancy, by the time the nausea was over it was lovely and I felt great late into the pregnacy despite the weight gain, but with Ruby's pregnancy I was constantly achy and particularly prone to complaining about my back. With Ruby's pregnancy, I don't remember craving anything specific, but because I had a toddler in the backseat we did make a few trips through the McDonald's drive-thru and those golden fries were certainly a favorite.
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| We named her Ruby |
My pregnancy also differed in another very substantial way: Scout had turned head down by the usual timeline, Ruby did not. Ruby was lying transverse (horizontally in the pelvis). I was trying handstands in the pool, doing anything on all fours (like scrubbing my kitchen floor), watching TV by placing my legs on the couch, my belly towards the floor and my arms holding me up like a plank. Finally, at 38 weeks, I was scheduled for an external cephalic version, or more commonly called a “version.” We left Scout with our friends Hilary and Lew, fully hoping that we'd be back to pick her up a few hours later (and not three days later with a brother or sister, as was a possibly outcome if the version didn't go as planned). The procedure was remarkably easy, but with all the potential risks and complications involved, it was not as if we just walked in and walked out. First, I was monitored by a fetal heart monitor, there were ultrasounds, and then they gave me a medication that made my muscles (ideally, my uterus) relax. This medication had the side-effect of causing my heart to race. When all of that was done, we began by the nurses phoning the hospital to let their staff know that we were starting the procedure. In a worst case scenario, pushing the baby into the vertex (head-down) position could cause distress and put the baby in jeopardy. But ours was a best case scenario. The doctor laid his hands on my large belly, pushed once, and the nurses did another ultrasound to confirm the baby was head-down. She was. One more quick fetal monitor check to make sure Ruby took the move okay, and we were on our way back to Hilary and Lew's to pick up Scout. Cory didn't bring the car around, and we both walked the two blocks to our car. At some point, I remember Cory saying, “I could have done that.” The hands-on doctor-work took about 30 seconds.
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| Look at the size of that belly... and this was Halloween, three weeks BEFORE she was born |
Two weeks later, my due date of November 18, 2009 arrived and I had my last pre-natal visit. I think that I asked them not to check me because I didn't want to be discouraged, but they did anyway. They gave me the information about setting up an induction and I was encouraged to call the hospital. I did, and was informed that I would have to be induced on Sunday because all the Monday and Tuesday appointments were already filled since everyone wanted to be home with their brand new baby in time for Thanksgiving. Or maybe their doctors wanted them to be. In any case, the next morning (the 19th) I woke up around 4:30 am for my usual visit to the bathroom and about a half-hour later I felt a surge of liquid. I was convinced my water broke (at least to some extent) because I was wet enough that I had to change clothes. I knew it was typical of pregnant women to “leak,” but because I had just gone to the bathroom I was further convinced that this had to be amniotic fluid. At 8 am, when I knew the doctors office would be receiving calls, I called and they said come in to see Dr. Weber, the same woman that delivered Scout.
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| Perfect baby fist pump |
Since Margie was already staying with us, Cory and I went together and the doctor couldn't confirm anything. Since I wasn't actively having contractions, she advised us to go home and just pay attention. If need be, I could go into the hospital where they would do a test called “amnisure” to confirm the presence of amniotic fluid. I returned home and within the next few hours I felt a small but obvious “gush” of fluid. I called the doctor, and she said to head to the hospital. Around noon, Cory and I went to Rose Medical Center, where it all happened with Scout as well. I was admitted and went to labor and delivery, where they placed me in the last available room. Evidently all of the women admitted the prior night for inductions were still there, no babies yet. This was going to be a busy night for these nurses! After much discussion about my situation, I decided that I would go ahead and have them administer pitocin. There is much talked about pitocin and it's effect on labor, but quite frankly, I feared walking the halls of Rose for 24 hours and not having labor start naturally and THEN having to have pitocin more than I feared pitocin itself. My last experience with labor (see “Scout's labor story”) was so long that I feared utter exhaustion more than anything else. Pitocin drip began around 2 pm, and I went two hours without feeling a single contraction. The nurses checked me here and there, noting that despite whatever I was feeling, I was most certainly contracting. By 4 pm the invisible pitocin magic had worn off and I was most certainly “feeling it.”
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| Sleeping on Christmas Eve, 2009 |
I sat on the birth ball, hung onto Cory (in what probably looked like the most bizarre slow dance move ever, my hands wrapped around his neck and me swaying), moved from here to there. Near 6 pm, I remember asking one of the nurses, “How soon could I get an anesthesiologist in here?” She said, “Well, we're about to do a C-section down the hall, so if you want one I'd suggest you ask for one right now.” So, I did. I was shaking horribly, and every worry about this delivery centered around the epidural. One thing that I didn't mention about Scout's birth story is that I had a horrible reaction to the catheter (when you have an epidural, they give you a catheter since you wouldn't be able to feel the urge to urinate), and for two weeks had what felt like the world's most intense, aggravating bladder infection. So, I had spoken with the nurses about this from the get-go, and their plan was to use a non-latex catheter. The anesthesiologist was great, but it took a long while for me to get relief, and the whole time I was shaking uncontrollably (not a great thing when someone is inserting a needle into your spine). Based on my symptoms, the nurse and the anesthesiologist thought I was fully-dialated, which would have irritated me since I just got the epidural and if I had been 10 cm I could have just pushed and got that bumkin out without all the issues related to an epidural. Two minutes later, Dr. Weber checked me and I was 6 ½ cm. Vindication! I had gotten the epidural with the relief that it promised at the perfect time. After about a half hour the drugs kicked in, and life was remarkably different. Ahhh. Cory and I sat back and I remember watching NBC—some show I didn't know first, but at 8 pm we watched “The Office.” Mostly I watched, because Cory was being particular about how he likes to watch the episodes on DVD after the season is over—in chronological order—and this was going to throw him off. Suit yourself. Michael Scott helped me make it to the finish line.
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| Me and Bubbers |
By 8:30, I was completely dilated, I began pushing shortly after. When I arrived at the hospital, I remember the nurses telling me that “this is your second baby, things will go much quicker,” but I didn't believe them. I don't know if I'm a naturally skeptical person, or if the pain of birth causes me to deny any other person an opinion on MY body, but either way, I can remember being shocked at how quickly the pushing stage went with Ruby. I was very numb from the epidural, so I wasn't even sure if I was pushing properly, but at 8:50 pm Ruby was born. Cory cut the cord, and Dr. Weber announced that we had a girl. What was even more shocking than how quickly things went was that my baby was a GIRL. I don't think that shock wore off for weeks. Here I was, now the mother of two girls, and this baby that I held against my chest was so different than Scout—bright pink, no real hair other than peach fuzz on her head, and screaming bloody murder. For the first half hour of her life, I swear, that child screamed. Dr. Weber said, “Kind of a little drama queen, isn't she?”
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| From Dad's first photo shoot |
We hemmed and hawed a bit about the name, Ruby was on our list but at the last minute (for the previous two weeks) Cory had resurrected the name Acadia. I think the Ken Burns documentary about the National Parks deeply influenced this. While we were talking names, the baby nursed. The doctor stitched me up, said her goodbyes, and we were on our way to bonding with this new member of our family. Cory got his mom and Lexie from the waiting room, and the ladies joined us in oohing and aahing. Photo ops, sweet remarks, and lots of love. Then the nurses started to get concerned.
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| With Grandma Karen |
I was told that I was “bleeding more than we'd like.” They started measuring my blood loss and called the doctor (now on her way home to her own 5-month-old baby). When Dr. Weber returned, she explained that they'd turn back on my epidural and explore my uterus to see what was going on. The ultrasound was used, but evidently it didn't reveal the source of the bleeding. The nurses asked Lexie and Margie to leave. Dr. Weber began “exploring,” and any contractions or birth pain that I had previously had would pale in comparison to the pain of a doctor internally examining my uterus. After a few minutes, Dr. Weber explained that they'd move me to the operating room to be more comfortable and take a look at what was causing the bleeding. All the emotions and hormones collided, and I started crying. Within mere minutes they had me packed up and rolling down the hall, leaving Cory and Ruby behind in an empty room. Little was communicated to Cory, and the way that he tells the story is that 20 minutes passed before someone returned to tell him my progress, and he asked if the nurse could bring his mother and sister in. Lexie and Margie arrived, and Cory said, “They just took her.” Just retelling the story now makes me so sad, thinking about Cory and Ruby all alone.
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| Eating cereal in the bumbo |
Me, on the other hand, I was overwhelmed. The anesthesiologist (this one a woman, different from the male doctor who gave me the epidural hours earlier) whispered in my ear during the entire ride the operating room, and frequently gave me updates. I remember someone saying (it was either her or her assistant), “We can make you feel better,” upon seeing my tears. From what I remember, the operating room was filled with people, and bright and white. The anesthesiologist was right: I felt better. Whatever they gave me (later on, I learned it was lots of drugs, including fentanyl—a drug several times stronger than heroin), it definitely worked. I left the OR and was transferred to recovery, where I got to see Cory, Margie and Lexie. I was emotional, drugged-up, hormonal, you name it, and I remember going on and on about how much I loved everyone. I remember being wrapped in warm blankets, and even a warm towel wrapped and snaked around my head. I was cozy.
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| In her blanket, the one she now drags everywhere and bites on all the time |
When I woke later, the doctor shared with me that I would be tired. I had lost a lot of blood and they did not do a transfusion, in hopes that my body would heal itself. They had placed a Bakri balloon in my uterus to stop the bleeding. At no point, until my post-partum check up, did anyone use the term “hemorrhage.” I'm not sure if this is just an omission, or if it was deliberate because they know how scary that word can be. This balloon acted as a tamponade to stop the bleeding, and they would keep it filled with water until they were sure the bleeding had subsided. Eventually the balloon would be slowly drained, then removed. This would, with any luck, allow me to recover normally. They moved me to a different area of the hospital, not post-partum, but an area normally reserved for women on high-risk pregnancies that need to be in the hospital (I imagined Kate Gosselin-like women as my neighbors), and the nurse to patient ratio was ideal. Again, I was very fortunate in that everything went as well as it could have. I was given Methergine to deal with the bleeding (a drug that I had been on before, after some delayed hemorrhaging after Scout's delivery), and I was tested for my blood counts repeatedly. All was well. Within 24 hours, the balloon was out and I was walking around the floor.
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| Photo by Cory |
Cory and I left the hospital with a healthy baby two days after delivery, much like I would have had the hemorrhage not occurred. In the meantime, Cory had gone home twice to check on Scout, who was being cared for by her grandma and aunts. Lacey stayed with her at home while Margie and Lexie visited the first night, but she got to come and see the baby the following day. I should also say that due to the H1N1 craziness that winter, we were advised to limit visitors and no one under 12 (not even siblings) was allowed. When we left Rose Medical Center on the 21st, I distinctly remember that it was gorgeous. No doubt, a gorgeous fall day to return to my sweet house, to introduce my new, thriving baby to her older sister and likewise to introduce my precious first born to her younger sister. This too, was perfect.
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| This kind of captures it all, dontcha think? |
